Discovering Herself
by Great Ace
Summary: Have you ever wondered why Daphne developed her "Ice Queen of Slytherin" mask? An AroAce fic.
1. Understanding

Daphne Greengrass dropped her head into her knees and pulled her arms up above her head to curl up into the tightest little ball she could. Her spine, pressed uncomfortably against the cold, stone walls of the dungeon was strangely comforting to her. The discomfort allowed her to remain present in the moment, rather than getting swept up in the tangled mess of her thoughts and emotions.

Usually, she could keep herself under control. She was the Ice Queen of the Slytherin Dungeons, after all. Appearances had to be kept up.

Sometimes, though… sometimes…

She felt like a puppet, or perhaps an Inferi. A muggleborn may have said she felt like a robot. Moving through life, going through the motions of school and family obligations. Never _feeling._

She felt _wrong._

She hadn't always realised that she was different. Hadn't had that feeling of wrongness. Perhaps it was only possible to feel wrong when you were consciously aware of your difference.

She'd always sneered at girls like Pansy, and the Gryffindor… Brown? That was right, Lavender Brown. So emotional, flipping from emotional high to emotional low and back to an emotional high again. Always so extreme.

Daphne felt quite confident in her superiority over such girls. _She_ could stay in control of her emotions. _She_ was the mature one, capable of handling life's events without going on such a roller coaster. _She_ didn't feel the need to obsess over famous Quidditch players, or _Witch Weekly's_ most eligible bachelors, or the latest singer with the quote unquote "dreamy eyes" …

No. She, Daphne Greengrass, was far above such petty emotional investments. She was better than that. In fact, she didn't feel the need to obsess over any boy.

So when the first boy asked her out, way back in first year, she had no problem turning him down with a cool sneer and a simple "I'd rather not," in a tone that could have frozen fire.

But the requests didn't stop.

"I'd rather not," soon became "My father requires that I do not enter into a relationship until such time as my schooling has been completed."

The lie came easily to her. It got the boys off her back, as well. No one in their right mind wanted to face the wrath of Lord Greengrass.

The word must have spread around the school that she was off limits, because the requests slowed, and then finally stopped. She was pleased, at first. She didn't have time for a relationship, she told herself. That was why she didn't desire one. She was busy. Yes. Too young, too busy, too…

She gave herself excuse after excuse as to why she didn't desire a relationship with a boy even as she continued to develop her "Ice Queen" persona. But the doubts, tiny niggling doubts in the back of her mind at first, began to form.

The girls around her were becoming increasingly giggly. No longer were boys gross, they were something to be watched, discussed. Then came the codenames. Each boy was given a codename so that the girls could talk about them without fearing that the boy in question would realise he was being talked about.

"Ooohh, did you see 'Pineapple' sat near Millicent in Transfiguration yesterday? Milli _liiiiikes_ him."

"Hey, Tracey, did 'Snuffbox' just look at you twice in the last minute? What does that mean?"

"Shhhh, 'Silver' is coming this way… and has he done his hair differently today?"

…In hindsight, they hadn't been the cleverest of codenames.

Daphne had prided herself on her ability to stay above such childishness, even as she felt a pang of loneliness in being left out of these conversations. She didn't notice these little details, and couldn't fathom why they were important. What was she missing? Why couldn't she be more involved?

… Why didn't she _care?_ Why couldn't she behave so frivolously? Why didn't she understand? What was there to understand? Why couldn't she understand?

A rift began to form between her and her female classmates. As their conversations became increasingly focused on the boys, as they became bolder, dropped the codenames, as they began to date, and laugh and cry and giggle and scream and mock and tease and support and all the other things they were doing in relation to boys, Daphne began to feel left out.

She began to feel left behind. _Why_ couldn't she be more like them? Suddenly, the other girl's behaviour didn't seem frivolous and childish anymore. She couldn't look down on it any longer with her old feelings of superiority… instead she began to look at it with a deep, aching longing that seemed to fill the entire cavity of her chest.

She wanted to feel those things the other girls did, to be able to join in on the conversations and the laughing and the crying. She wanted to be able to sit in one even _One. Single. Conversation._ without feeling lost and confused, not understanding some reference or joke.

She wanted to _belong_.

Why wasn't she normal?

Maybe it would come later.

Then, in her fourth year, Daphne saw something. The sixth year female Hufflepuff prefect, and the Gryffindor Chaser, Angelina Johnson. In a room. Together. Kissing.

 _What?_

That added another layer of complexity to Daphne's problem. She knew, intellectually, that some people were gay. They were attracted to people of the same gender.

She also knew that it was extremely frowned upon, and that her parents- particularly Lord Greengrass, would not stand for a gay daughter. _Especially_ not his eldest daughter. She would be disowned in a heartbeat if she was found to be gay.

Was that why she was different to everyone else?

Had she, on some instinctual level, recognised that she was gay and known that she would not survive the fallout if that was discovered, so repressed her own feelings even from herself?

Daphne herself didn't think she had a problem with homophobia… was she secretly homophobic? Were her own subconscious beliefs hiding the truth from even herself as a protective mechanism?

She felt sick. On the one hand, she hated not knowing, not understanding why she was different. Wouldn't it be better to know if she was gay?

On the other hand, life would be so complicated if she was gay. Plus, she didn't want to face the fact that she might subconsciously be so homophobic that she couldn't recognise or accept even herself.

She lay in bed each night for _months,_ consciously trying to convince herself that it would be OK if she was gay.

Finally, she felt at peace with that. She convinced herself that once she got over her own fears, she would start to feel attracted to girls. It would be hard, she realised, but at least one day she would find a partner to share her life with.

That was the thought that kept her going. She would find someone. She wouldn't have to be alone, to be the Ice Queen once she was able to acknowledge her own preferences to herself.

So why wasn't that happening?

Why wasn't she starting to feel some attraction to girls?

She went cold.

Nothing.

She was empty.

The rumours must be true. She must actually be dead inside. Just an emotionless husk, incapable of feeling, experiencing, loving.

Broken.

Daphne switched off. She stopped trying to feel. She walked around, feeling more like the passenger than the driver in her own body. Just along for the ride, without control.

Who was she? Why was she like this? What was wrong with her? What cruel fate or deity would foist this horrible curse on her, preventing her from feeling attraction? Cursing her to live alone for her entire life?

For what person, man or woman, would choose to live with and love someone who was incapable of loving them back? What sort of person would do that to themselves?

No one, she realised. She would be forever alone, cursed to walk the path of her life without a guide, a comforting touch.

The loneliness hit hard. It was like ice, all encompassing, unrelenting. Her stomach twisted and knotted, never letting her feel comfortable. She drifted further away from her friends, feeling as though she would never be able to relate to them.

Then he came.

She was oblivious. He was just being friendly. He would show up whenever she was tutoring the first year Slytherins. He'd help set up the desks for her, and help her pack up at the end of a session.

He'd start conversations with her. Initially, they all revolved around the tutoring that she was doing. Then they would talk about the first years in general. Then school. Then everything else.

He was just being a friend, wasn't he?

She started to open up to him about her family life, and the struggles of being one of two daughters in a family that had desperately wanted a son.

He was understanding, and in turn told her some of his own struggles.

He was just being a friend, wasn't he?

She became sick over winter, and was confined to the common room for a few weeks.

He brought her her favourite snacks, ensured she always had enough blankets, made sure that the fire was always burning at just the right temperature so that she was comfortable…

He was just being a good friend, wasn't he?

The other girls started whispering about how he must _like_ her.

Daphne dismissed them all. Surely he didn't like her that way. Who would? She remained oblivious.

He started touching her more, playfully punching her in the shoulder, brushing past her, touching her arm to gain her attention, letting his hands linger just a second longer than she thought was normal.

Were… were the other girls right?

A brief spark flared up inside of her. She was wanted. Desired. She squashed it down. Surely he didn't like her that way. Who would? She remained, for the most part, oblivious.

Until the day he asked her out.

That night, in bed, she felt the spark again. She smiled at it. She felt wanted, desirable. Someone actually _wanted_ to date her. Her. The emotionless "Ice Queen" was wanted.

They went on a Hogsmeade weekend together. She still felt that little spark, but she also felt uncomfortable. What if he wanted to… _kiss_ her? It seemed wrong, somehow.

She convinced herself that it was just too early. She'd grow into those feelings, eventually. She'd want that soon.

He tried to walk with his arm around her waist, but it was uncomfortable for her to walk. She took his hand off her waist and held it instead. She ignored the prickling in her skin, the hair raising on the back of her neck, the feeling of _wrongness._

She was just feeling self conscious, she reasoned with herself. After all, they were in a very public place. People were probably watching.

At the end of the visit, he asked if he could kiss her.

"Not yet," she had replied, "I'm not ready for… _that…_ just yet."

"That's OK," he had responded, "I don't want to push you."

She felt cold that night. But, she reasoned again, she just needed time to ease into the whole boyfriend thing. She'd get used to the idea and then she'd be comfortable. It was just time.

The excuses felt hollow, even to her.

They went on more dates.

Every time, he asked to kiss her.

Every time, she said not yet. "Give me time". "I'm not ready".

"But I will be," she added on, "Soon."

Every time, she felt worse. It wasn't happening.

Maybe, she decided, she just had to try it. Just once. Once she'd kissed him, everything would change. She'd start to feel. She wouldn't be so emotionless anymore. She wouldn't be so broken.

So the next time he asked, she let him kiss her.

She did it wrong, apparently. He told her so.

She felt embarrassed.

"I know," she'd said when he reminded her that she wasn't supposed to keep her lips so firmly closed, "but I'm still learning how to do this. I'll do it better next time".

She'd waited until after he'd left to wipe her mouth.

She spent a long time washing her face that night, trying to feel clean again.

It was just because she hadn't done it right, she reasoned with herself. She'd do it properly next time, and then it would feel right. Then she'd learn to experience all those emotions that the other girls felt.

They kissed the next time she was him as well. It was gross and slimy and she felt dirty and uncomfortable through the whole thing.

It was just because it was new, she reasoned. It would start to feel better once she got used to it.

The other girls wanted to know why she was showering so much more frequently. Why she was constantly washing her face.

She kept trying, but she started to dread her time with him. She pretended to be sick, so he wouldn't kiss her. She brought out her "Ice Queen" persona more and more around him… not intentionally, but as a defence. She started treating him poorly, ignoring him, snubbing him. Cruel words began to spill from her mouth, without her consciously thinking about them.

He refused to be turned away by her hash words, her cruel treatment of him.

"You know," he said to her one night as they were sitting by the fire. He was siting comfortably. She was ever so slightly trying to inch away from him.

"You know, when I first saw you, when I first met you, I put you on this pedestal."

He paused, and stared into the fire. A nervous look flitted across his face.

"I thought you were perfect. You could do nothing wrong. But recently, I've learnt you're not perfect."

He stopped. Eyes still fixed to the fire, not looking at her.

"You can be arrogant, unfeeling, and cruel at times. Sometimes, the Ice Queen seems to come though and it's hard to remember that you can be anything but that. Then there are the times where you can be warm, funny and caring. You're not perfect. But you're perfect for me, and I've decided that I love you."

A weight dropped into her stomach. Ice flew through her veins. Daphne fought valiantly to prevent herself from losing her lunch. He what? This couldn't be happening.

"I-"

"Don't say anything," he interrupted her, "I can tell you don't love me yet, I know. I just wanted you to know how I feel. You deserve to know how I feel. You don't have to say anything just yet, I'll wait. I'm happy to wait."

"I- I don't…" but then he was gone.

Daphne didn't know what to do. She knew this whole thing was wrong. She couldn't stand the kissing, or the touching…

She didn't want to be near him.

Was it just him?

She didn't think so. She tried to imagine herself with another boy, with another girl… she tried to imagine herself with anyone. She couldn't. _Why?_

What was wrong with her?

He certainly didn't deserve to have her string him along like this, but she couldn't stomach the thought of breaking up with him. It would mean having to face her own problems. It would mean recognising, even just to herself, that she was wrong. She was broken.

She couldn't do it.

She started to ignore him. He would talk to her in the hallways, she would shy away. He would ask her out on dates, she would find an excuse to go.

He'd pass her notes and she would purposely not respond for days or even weeks, trying to pretend that she'd not gotten them, or that she'd forgotten about them.

Finally, he demanded an answer.

She just told him she was working some things out.

She went back to her dorm, and his owl was sitting on her pillow with a list of questions. The final one was 'Are you breaking up with me?'

She lay the parchment down on her bed and stared at it for hours. Not moving, just staring at the final question. Slowly, she began to cross out all the other questions on the parchment until only the final one remained.

'Are you breaking up with me?'

She paused, her quill hovering over the question. She tried to breathe, but it was becoming increasingly hard. Was she?

What should she do? She couldn't keep stringing him along, knowing how he felt about her and her own lack of emotion for him. Her own aversion of kissing, or doing any of the things that couples her age were doing. She was sure that feeling physically sick after every kiss, feeling scared to be left alone with him in case he wanted to kiss her was not the emotion of a happy girlfriend.

But breaking up with him felt like a confession. She could no longer hide behind the façade of normality she had built up by having a boyfriend. She could no longer point to him when she was trying to convince herself that everything was OK… that she was OK, normal, unbroken.

Was it selfish, wanting to feel like a normal girl?

Was it selfish, to yearn for companionship, to try to escape the loneliness that had been creeping up on her?

Was it selfish, to crave a sign that she was not broken?

It was, she realised. And so, with her heart thumping in her chest and her blood seeming to burn through her body, she dipped her quill in the inkpot again and quickly, before she could think twice, scribbled 'Yes.'

Then, almost as an afterthought, she added, "It's me, not you. It's not your fault. You didn't do anything wrong".

He wouldn't believe that, she realised. But she couldn't, wouldn't, tell him the truth.

She wasn't strong enough to tell him the truth.

She was a failure. She was incapable of emotion. She was wrong. She was broken.

Broken.

She gave the letter to the owl, and then immediately hid herself under the covers of her bed and cried.

For him. For her. For the injustice that was the way she treated him. For the injustice that was her own lack of desire.

For the unfairness of it all.

She cried through the night and into the early hours of the morning until she collapsed, completely spent, into her pillow.

The next morning, the Ice Queen emerged from the Slytherin female's dorms.

The Ice Queen was her friend even as she spiralled into a deep depression.

Then, a stroke of luck, she heard the rumours about Harry Potter. He was aromantic, they said. He was asexual, they said.

Finally, after weeks of hearing the rumours, she dragged up enough of the curiosity that was left in her to find out what the words meant.

Wait.

Those words, their meanings… they felt… she wasn't sure, exactly.

She didn't know how to describe them at all except they seemed to give her a similar feeling to what she felt when she first got home after a year at school…

That was it. They felt like home.

They were comfortable. Familiar. The beckoned to her, like old friends, welcoming her back. They felt _right._

They hurt, as well, as family often does.

They taunted her with their _lack._ Their finality.

But.

They proved something important.

She _was not alone._

There were people _like her._ Other people who didn't experience desire, or attraction.

Other people who shared her aversion.

Other people who had experienced the confusion, the pain.

Most importantly, they showed her that _she was not broken._

She was not broken.

She was Daphne Greengrass, Unbroken.


	2. Acceptance

A/N: The path to understanding and acceptance isn't always easy, even once you've found a label. Daphne has a little while to go before she can truly be happy in herself!

* * *

The exhilaration Daphne had felt upon realising that her feelings, or lack thereof, had a name didn't last.

Recognising that there were others like her was an incredible realisation for her, but she soon fell back down to Earth.

How would she explain her lack to her parents?

What would the Lord Greengrass do when she didn't bring a love match home? Would she be forced into a marriage contract, to be bound to a man for whom she felt nothing?

Forced to behave as the meek, submissive wife when she wanted no part in those behaviours? To be required to kiss, to do the acts a good wife is required to do… the thoughts made her feel nauseous. _He_ had shown her that she was incapable of enjoying such duties.

But what was the alternative? To run away? To live alone, in solitude for the rest of her life?

Now, in school, she had friends, despite struggling to follow their conversations… but what of when they all grew up? When her friends were in relationships, and later married?

They would surely outgrow their single, "childish" friend in Daphne.

And what of when they all moved on in life, and began to have children of their own? How would she be able to stay relevant then? To relate to their struggles and their problems and their daily lives?

No, she realised, her friends were primed to drift away from her, to leave her behind, a relic of their young, innocent, carefree childhoods. Nice to think about, perhaps, but irrelevant. Unwanted. Alone.

What benefit did being able to name her lack of emotion, desire, bring her? All she could see now was the pain… the finality. The promises of no future, of loneliness and pain.

Of watching her friends grow up and away without her, moving along the path of life that was denied to her.

And as the promise of loneliness and pain descended as a cold, cold ball into the pits of her stomach, Daphne drew the Ice Queen mask around her.

She used it to fend off the friendships she knew were doomed to fail in a few short years when she could no longer remain relevant.

She used it to ward off those who might be drawn to her unfortunate good looks, to protect them from the pain of becoming involved with her.

It worked, for a time. She got better at it, too.

Sometimes it was hard even for her to understand where the Ice Queen mask stopped, and her own personality started.

Sometimes she worried that she was becoming the Ice Queen, rather than just using it to protect herself.

Other times, she didn't care.

At times she felt it would be better for everyone if she succumbed to the Ice Queen… it might hurt less. The Ice Queen didn't care about being alone.

And then another came. He, too, was initially rebuffed by the Ice Queen… but she slipped up.

She was tired. Tired of hiding the pain, even from herself.

Tired of wishing desperately that she could be different, but knowing with the awful certainty of a label that she was not.

Tired of running from herself, her family's expectations, of all those around her.

She was _tired._

And the Ice Queen slipped.

Only for a second.

Just a split second.

But he saw.

The pain, the frustration, the rage, the _anger_ … but above all, the fear.

He saw it all in the split second it flashed across her face, before the iron curtain fell and the Ice Queen was back in place.

After that, he would not leave her alone.

He kept coming back, and the Ice Queen kept rebuffing him.

Yet again and again, he tried… with no designs, just wanting to help. Determined to lift some of the heavy burden of the knowledge of herself off her shoulders.

Eventually, she began to crumble. She showed him her true face. She showed him Daphne.

He spoke to Daphne.

He learnt of her fears, her worries, her weaknesses.

He listened, with no judgement. He held her while she cried and screamed and raged at the world. He didn't understand, per say… but he _understood._

He didn't understand her lack of desire, her lack of emotion… but he _understood_ the pain behind it all.

He didn't understand the worries for the implications of loneliness… but he _understood_ the fear of being alone.

It was enough, she decided.

She was enough, he told her.

And so there she was, with her back pressed against the cool, stone walls of the dungeon; the discomfort allowing her to feel strangely present in the moment rather than focusing on the tangled mess that was her thoughts and emotions.

Daphne Greengrass dropped her head into her knees and pulled her arms up above her head to curl into the tightest little ball she could.

She felt frozen in time; emotions, thoughts raging unchecked through her mind and body.

She knew she needed to move, to do, and yet she felt entirely incapable of even twitching a finger.

To move, even to blink, would be a colossal effort that she was not sure she was capable of doing.

The window was just to her left.

A short drop, maybe 2 floors below it. It would be easier…

He caught her.

He caught her in strong arms and did not put her down.

"Don't leave me," she finally managed to whisper once her voice returned, " _Please,_ never leave me…"

"I'm not leaving," he said.

And she believed him, because she knew he _knew._

He began to build her back up, put her together piece by piece even as the outside world saw no difference.

To them, Daphne Greengrass and the Ice Queen were one and the same, indecipherable, untangleable, interchangeable.

He knew better.

He built up Daphne even as he began to unravel the Ice Queen.

But even as she began to find confidence in herself, Daphne felt indebted and guilty.

He said he didn't need any more from her than friendship, but she could see it…

She wouldn't enjoy it, but did she need to? She could give him something in return…

So their relationship began to change.

He was delighted. Although at every stage he made sure to tell her that he didn't need anything else, she could see his elation as she gave him more…

She knew he wanted it, yearned for it, was just barely contained for her sake.

And she felt even worse, knowing that he could be with someone 'normal,' someone who _felt, experienced,_ if not for her.

And so she gave more.

She gave him more and felt sick afterwards.

She found herself mentally reciting from her textbooks to keep her mind off the things she was doing with him, and running to the bathroom after each encounter.

It hurt.

But he deserved it, she told herself. He was putting up with her, after all.

She went home for the Christmas break.

The weeks she spent at home, Daphne felt freer than ever before.

The time she spent with Astoria reminded her of the times they'd spent together before everything changed, before they each went off to Hogwarts and became distracted by friendships and study, and classes…

It was nice, she realised, to just be alone with her sister… to enjoy her company…

And without realising, her worries and fears began to lighten.

She was at peace with herself and her situation.

Christmas couldn't last forever, and soon she was back at school, back with him…

And she fell into her old routine.

He deserved it, she continued to tell herself. The reasoning sounded weaker and weaker every time she repeated it to herself.

She could put up with it, if it kept him happy, she kept telling herself. But a new, niggling voice at the back of her head began to pipe up, louder and louder each time.

 _Could she?_

Was this really what she wanted for herself? Was this really the answer to her fears, her problems… or was it just another facet of the problem disguised as a solution?

Was he still helping her?

Was this helping?

It was, she told herself… but it felt like a lie.

The Ice Queen grew stronger.

The cracks he had begun to put in it began to fade.

And in that, she grew to appreciate the Ice Queen.

The Ice Queen could be witty, funny, and always had a good comeback.

The Ice Queen was delightfully sarcastic.

The Ice Queen was intelligent and strong and motivated and powerful.

And while there were negatives to the Ice Queen, it had never lied to her, never hurt her more while trying to help, never used her guilt and her pain to get her to do things she knew she would never do of her own volition…

And Daphne realised that she could be both.

For the Ice Queen was not a mask, or a protective shield. It was not something external, to use but to never be. The Ice Queen was not stronger, more powerful, more intelligent than her… for where did it come from?

She was the Ice Queen. And the Ice Queen was Daphne. They were all just different facets, aspects of her personality. No one was any one emotion or state, and in that respect she was no different.

 _Daphne_ was witty, and funny, and always had good comebacks.

 _Daphne_ could be delightfully sarcastic.

 _Daphne_ was intelligent and strong and motivated and powerful.

 _Daphne_ was the person she could rely on, and trust.

And with that realisation came one that was more painful. He was no longer helping her.

She didn't think the pain he was causing was intentional on his part, and was sure that had he realised what his actions were doing, he would be horrified.

But the fact remained, he was hurting her… and worse, she was hurting herself trying to please him.

She didn't need to keep trying to tempt him to stay around by offering what she didn't want to give.

She didn't need to reward him for giving her the time of day.

She would give only what she was happy to give, and he could take it or leave it.

For though loneliness scared her, she finally realised a truth she should have known all along.

She had herself.

She had her family.

She was Unbroken.

They broke up that evening.

Daphne felt a twisting, gut wrenching guilt for what she'd done to both the boys, stringing them along, using them to better understand herself…

But for the first time, she also realised that they'd been using her, too.

She had satisfied their own desires, need for comfort, human presence.

She felt incredibly selfish when she realised she had not understood before that they weren't both acting solely for her. They'd been acting for themselves.

And that realisation that their worlds had not revolved around her, but that she and the boys had each been influencing the other's reality stung her when she was forced to face her own selfish narrative, but also gave her immense freedom.

She did not owe them anything.

She would, from now on, walk her own path.

Those that stumbled along her path may choose to walk with her for a time, or until it's end.

She would not know who those travellers were, or how long they would stay on her path until it happened…

But.

From this point onwards.

Daphne would not alter her own path.

She would appreciate the company should it come along, but she was not going to alter her path for the enjoyment, comfort, pleasure or any other reason for another traveller.

Should her path align with someone else's, that would be a gift.

But Daphne would not sit around waiting for someone, or hurt herself any more.

She was independent.

She was strong.

She was powerful.

She was the Ice Queen.

And for the first time, Daphne had more than understanding of herself.

She had more than just discovered herself.

She had acceptance.

She now was truly able to believe.

She was Daphne Greengrass.

Unbroken.


	3. Happiness

Daphne Greengrass had, in her own opinion, fought her way through a lot to get to where she was today.

Pain… suffering… fear… confusion… loneliness… guilt… grief… they'd all been her closest companions at one point or another.

She'd given up at times, and been put back together again by people who then hurt her more than she'd ever been hurt before.

Each hurt worse than the last; but each hardening her, strengthening her imperceptibly.

She had her regrets, too.

She wished she could take back how she'd treated the first boy.

She wished she could take back what she'd given the second boy.

But, as they said, 'If wishes were Thestrals, squibs would fly…' she wasn't entirely sure what that meant, but she understood the gist of it.

There was no point wishing to change the past.

In some respects, too, she recognised that had things gone differently for her, she might not have come out the way she was today.

Would she be this confident? Strong? Powerful? Independent? Were these all just natural parts of her character? Or was she forged in the fire?

And what if she had not felt compelled to build and strengthen the Ice Queen? Would she be able to recognise those characteristics as a part of herself?

Would she have learnt to stand up for herself, to value herself, to protect herself as precious in the same way?

There was no way to tell.

And so, Daphne decided with all the determination in the world, to accept herself.

To know herself.

To be at peace with herself.

Some days it was harder than others, to be sure…

But Daphne never gave up.

She began to acknowledge her fears and worries as more than just a big, looming, unsolvable terror. She began to recognise them as the issues that they were, and in so doing, she found them to be less frightening.

As if acknowledging their truth and power over her gave them less power in some unforeseen way.

As if by acknowledging them, looking at them head on in the light of day gave her permission to let them go, to put them aside for a minute and simply live her life rather than have them skulk in the back of her mind, never far from her attention.

With her newfound freedom, Daphne began to put her energy into herself.

She'd spent so long worrying about things she _wasn't._

She _wasn't_ straight.

She _wasn't_ gay.

She _wasn't_ attracted to people.

She _wasn't_ capable of experiencing desire.

She _wasn't_ interested in or capable of a romantic relationship.

Now, she had the time to explore what she _was,_ and what she enjoyed _._

Daphne realised that she loved going to the beach. She loved playing in the waves, ducking and diving and splashing around. She loved lying on the sand and getting all the little granules stuck between her toes and to her legs. She loved the feel of the salt water evaporating off her face in the hot sun, leaving salt crystallised in her eyelashes.

She loved the feel of her hair, semi-dry and stuck together with sand and salt, cascading down her back. She loved the feel of the sun kissing her bare stomach as she walked across the sand, and the feel of her abdominal muscles rippling beneath her skin with every step. She loved the feeling it provoked in her… one of being _strong._ She noticed that as her physical strength improved from the swimming and jumping and running on the sand, so did her mental and emotional strength. She loved it.

Daphne began to develop a love of Quidditch. She loved to analyse the plays each team used, and tried to predict the movements of the players before they made them. She learnt the strengths and weaknesses of each player, their habits, their patterns on the field.

She particularly enjoyed watching the Ballycastle Bats play, and began to follow each of their games, attending all that she could. She loved the atmosphere at the games, with all the spectators forgetting their differences; be they male, female, pureblood, muggleborn, powerful wizard, squib, straight, gay… instead they all became one. One giant, living, breathing, thriving organism, united in their love for the sport. She loved the feeling of _sameness,_ being able to look around at the stadium full of thousands of witches and wizards, and know that they were all experiencing the same feelings, emotions. She was one of many, a majority.

Daphne rediscovered a love from her childhood, of turning the wireless up as loud as it would go and _singing._ She would sing at the top of her lungs, sometimes trying to sing nicely, other times purposely off-key, just for the sheer joy of it. She'd dance, too, running and jumping and spinning her way through the house when there was no one there to see.

Sometimes she would just sit, eyes closed, in silence. Just letting the music swell through her body, infusing all that she was. She'd just breathe as the music would crescendo through her heart, then spill into her lungs and chest, and then travel through her veins and her bones to the farthest reaches of her body. Her spine, fingers, toes, even her scalp would tingle from the power.

Sometimes, she sang songs of strength and power, and delight in the feelings of warmth, of control, of her own indomitable spirit as they swelled through her body. Other times, she sang songs of sadness and loss, and relaxed into the song as though it's own pain was allowing her to release, to let go of her own, and lighten her spirit.

One day, while strolling idly through the streets of magical Paris, she'd stumbled across an acoustic guitar, abandoned in a small alley behind bags of trash. The face was scratched, and several of the strings snapped. Someone had obviously loved it at some point, and painted it with beautiful patterns and designs, but that person was long gone… the paint was chipped and peeling.

Daphne had never seen anything more magical.

She took it home, and set about repairing it. She went through books upon books to find the best spells to help her care for the instrument, and repaired it more carefully than anything she'd previously had to fix. She replaced all 6 strings with beautiful steel strings, and spelled them to remain in tune.

Finally, she was ready to play.

She plucked the low E and quickly took her hand away, letting the sound reverberate through her chest, starting strong and slowly fading away, remaining a single, pure sound in the silence of her home.

And the tears came.

Tears of pain, loss, hope, freedom, guilt, longing, joy, happiness… all the sufferings and trials she'd gone through, all of the experiences and achievements of her life, her heartbreak and her passions, all mixed into one and released with a single note.

Behind the tears, her lips began to twitch.

Slowly,

Slowly,

Daphne began to smile.

Even as the callouses began to form on the tips of her fingers from the harsh steel strings, Daphne began to play with every spare second she could find.

Sometimes she'd play songs she knew.

She'd sing along and let the world around her fade to nothing until it was just her, her guitar, and her voice.

She'd play the same song over and over again, marvelling at how just changing the accented notes changed the meaning and voice of the song entirely.

Without changing any of the notes, she could alter the song to sound sad, happy, determined, hopeless, frightening, peaceful…

She'd marvel at how the slightest change in her fingerpicking could make the song feel faster and more frantic; or slower and more peaceful without changing the actual pace of the song at all.

She could languish into the notes, or strike harshly at the strings.

Other times, she'd just play. She'd create her own little patterns and melodies, or even just play the same note over and over and over again and delight in just the simple sounds it produced.

And as Daphne found all the things that she loved, delighted in, and enjoyed, she learnt something else.

All that time, she'd been worrying about not fitting in and not being the same as everyone else, not being able to relate or feel relevant to her peers, she'd been doing herself a disservice.

For once she knew what _she_ enjoyed, once she knew what _she_ liked, once she was confident in who _she_ was… friends came.

Her confidence attracted them. Her self-assurance, the simple, unassuming, quiet yet powerful calm of knowing who she was…

She felt taller, steadier, around them. No longer rattled by the things people said and did, no longer desperately anxious to be accepted, to fit in. And people were drawn in, wanting to be a part of the confidence, wanting to feel as she did, wanting to experience the calm and the inner strength that oozed out of her without her conscious thought.

Some were jealous, and tried to cut her down, but Daphne was no longer worried by people disliking her, and their actions did not bother her any more.

For she had been forged in fire, and the pettiness of a few would not rattle her.

But now, she had people who enjoyed the same things as her.

She had friends who would go to the beach with her. A couple of times a week, they'd apparate to the beaches of the world. Sometimes, they'd go to popular beaches in Spain, France, or Australia…

Other times, they'd go to nearly unknown beaches on the islands of the Pacific or the Caribbean.

She began to tutor young children in guitar lessons, and found friendships with them and their parents on a mutual love and understanding of the power of the music.

She found a group of Ballycastle Bats supporters who travelled with her to each of their games.

It was with this group that she realised how much she'd grown from the terrified young student she had been only a few short years previously.

For within this group, was Harry Potter.

And she was reminded of the rumours.

Rumours that still persisted, and labelled him as lesser despite his triumph in the war.

That he was asexual.

That he was aromantic.

That he was like her.

And, for the first time, she realised that it didn't matter to her, whether they were alike or different in that respect.

For what had once defined her, her worries and fears, no longer controlled her.

A label that she had once unknowingly shied away from, then embraced with all she had, then resented was now no more than an afterthought, something she occasionally acknowledged but gave no power to.

She was asexual, she knew. And she was aromantic.

But they were two such tiny aspects of who Daphne Greengrass was as a person that they barely rated acknowledgement.

And she realised that she'd spent so long defining herself using the prefix of 'un', that she'd not realised the true harm she'd been causing herself by focusing on what she wasn't than what she was.

Unbroken, she'd called herself in an attempt to calm herself, strengthen herself that she'd not realised that calling herself that was only drawing her attention to the things she'd felt so insecure about.

She now realised how inaccurate that descriptor had been. For while she had not been broken, she was also so much more than just that. She was not defined by her lack, but by her strength.

And now…

Daphne was happy.

She truly was the person Daphne Greengrass was born to be.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading! Please leave a review if you enjoyed, as this story is closer to my heart than any I've written before.

It took a lot of courage and strength for me to share this with you, and have only managed to do so in the hope that it will spare you, or others around you, the pain of being forged in the fire like Daphne was.


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